My grandfather Ivan McClure (on the left) developed tuberculosis after being gassed in the trenches at Yrpes during WWI. He spent the majority of the rest of his life in a sanatorium; as did many of those who had been exposed to the chlorine gas. When I think of Remembrance Day I think of this excerpt from my Dad’s memoir; One Rung At A Time. I think of the youth of my Dad Don McClure (on the right) heading into WWII as he sees his father for the last time. The casualties of war can last for a long time. My father was returning by train from basic training in Camp Borden, Ontario to Moncton, New Brunswick. I can see in my minds eye the image of my Dad as a young soldier in uniform standing at the death bed of his father who will soon die from his injuries of the prior war……..
“On the train ride home from Montreal I got permission from my Commanding Officer to leave the train and take a taxi to the hospital to see Dad. He had no inkling that I was going to be there and I know that it was a glimpse of sunshine for him on an otherwise cloudy day. I only stayed for a half hour as it had taken time to get to the hospital and it would take an equal amount of time to get back to the train. After I kissed Dad good-bye, I turned my back on him and walked away. I have often wished I had turned and waved but the scene was getting too emotional for me to handle, compounded by a foreboding that this was a final farewell.”
So on Remembrance Day I wear my poppy in honour of all who served, who serve today and who will serve.
Nancy's Notes 